


springtime

by izumidos



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Comedy, Fluff, Idols, M/M, idk how else to tag this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-20 16:55:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13150953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/izumidos/pseuds/izumidos
Summary: In which Mayuzumi Chihiro is a tired producer who doesn't like spring or Akashii, and Akashi Seijuro is a male-idol-in-training who absolutely likes Mayuzumi.





	springtime

**Author's Note:**

> HEY HI THIS IS IMPORTANT;
> 
> Yumenogasai is the name of the school in ensemble stars, and i made some changes --- the age gap is still the same, but i changed it so that yumenogasai is a 4year university; mayuzumi is in his 4th year and akashi is in his 2nd year. also, in the game there's like 3 different categories (dance, vocal, performance) and i intergrated that kinda because each gap is a diff practice, and its p obvious which is which lol. but sorry this is late, but i hope you like this!!

For as much as it’s a common trope in his beloved light novels – and more recently, mangas – Mayuzumi detests spring. But contrary to the belief of the many, affronted Japanese people that he’s told his dislike of spring to, he doesn’t detest it because of its symbolic nature or just to rebel against the people’s belief.

 

No, he hates it for a completely different reason, and it comes in the form of a place called Yumenosaki Private Academy – explicitly put, an academy dedicated to producing  _ male idols _ . Mayuzumi loves idols as much as the next fanatic, but  _ a school for just male idols _ is pushing it, even for him.

 

That’s only half of the reason behind his hatred of spring, though; the reason for his detestment of it is that it means that classes start up again. So with classes starting up again, Mayuzumi is forced to endure another year of absolute bullshit from the academy’s biggest and most popular (asshole) idol.

 

Akashi Seijuro. Damn the kid, honestly. If it wasn’t for him, Mayuzumi would've enjoyed a nice and normal life as a struggling university student who’s majoring in Publishing of all things.

 

Instead, he’s become the guinea pig of the school because thanks to Akashi Seijuro again, he’s the first _and only_ student who’s studying how to produce/manage idols instead of becoming one. Granted it’s better that he got put into a producing course instead of the product course, _but still_.

 

“Ah, Chihiro. It’s nice to see you be my manager again this year,” Akashi greets, hands holding 2 cups of coffee. 

 

And  _ oh _ , can’t forget that the same little shit who dragged him into this entire thing just also had to be one he had to manage and produce.

 

“Not so nice on my side, though,” Mayuzumi retorts, his own hand still accepting the coffee offered by Akashi; the older male might not like the younger, but it was  _ free coffee _ .

 

“But I gave you your favorite order from your favorite coffeehouse, and on my part, I haven’t insulted any of your light novels on this pleasant morning.”

 

“I’ll give you points for the coffee, but you just talking to me makes my morning unpleasant.”

 

“Fair enough.”

 

Despite what his thinking, he keeps his mouth shut from starting a bigger feud with Akashi by sipping his coffee; as much as he still didn’t enjoy the presence of the other, walking in silence was something he could do easily. He even outdoes himself by not making a single, snarky comment about how unnecessarily loud Akashi was being in his sipping.

 

(Akashi barely stifles the urge to sigh in annoyance and only sips louder to vent his frustrations, but he'll get his chance later.)

 

 

 

 

“Chihiro, may I know what your schedule for this year is?”

 

“We have the same schedule, except for last period when I have my producer specific class,” Mayuzumi replies without blinking, still skimming over the colored paper in his hand to memorize the order of his classes.

 

“I realize that, however I’d still like to view it. I’m your idol, after all, and the producers listen to idols.”

 

“I’m your producer, not your babysitter, Akashi. That request of yours, as simple as it is, is useless and irritating, meaning I don't have to do it.”

 

Mayuzumi feels the annoyed, piercing stare of Akashi’s on him, but he only keeps looking through all the information on the paper. He folds it up a few moments later to tuck it into his back pocket, only to see a familiar hand pluck it from Mayuzumi’s grip and unfold it again.

 

“You’re fucking kidding me, right?”

 

“It does no harm for me to view this and confirm that we have most classes together, even if you’ll just be spectating to manage me like always.” Akashi moves his gaze to stare up at his senior. “Besides, I could have also just waited to steal it from your back pocket.”

 

“...piece of shit kouhai.”

 

“Yet you still enabled me last year and now this year.”

 

(Akashi both cheers and curses inwardly; he shouldn’t have revealed that part of the plan, but he does notice how Mayuzumi doesn’t fight him on his last point. He’ll save the backside pick pocket for the future.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mayuzumi frowns lightly, eyes skimming through the folder filled with paperwork and information for Akashi; he had forgotten how much paperwork he had to do at the start of the year, and he silently groans at the seemingly bigger stack for the current year.

 

Deciding to leave it for tomorrow – or also the day after tomorrow – he slips the papers back into the folder and sets it on the table. He turns around to speak to Akashi, only to yelp out a loud string of curses at the curious gaze of the boy in front of him.

 

“Oi, Akashit! Don’t surprise me like that!” Mayuzumi clutches the fabric over his pulsing heart, trying to regain some breath back after. “And you’re standing too close to me, back up.”

 

.

.

.

 

“I won’t hesitate to push you back with whatever force I need,” Mayuzumi threatens, one hand moving from his chest towards Akashi’s instead, when the other didn’t back up.

 

Seemingly snapping out of a trance, Akashi blinks for the first time in a while before smiling softly and replying, “Ah, apologies, Chihiro.”

 

The producer sighs quietly in relief, watching Akashi take a step back. It takes a moment after that, but Mayuzumi gets his heartbeat under control again to direct a disgruntled look towards his idol; he quirks his eyebrows, silently asking Akashi what he needed.

 

Akashi catches the look, but only shakes his head with the same, infuriatingly soft smile on his face. “Nothing, Chihiro. Am I suddenly not allowed to be close to my producer?”

 

Mayuzumi stares disbelievingly at the smaller male for a few seconds before muttering, “Just get into the sound booth, and go get started on warming up. The next song you’re singing is on the music stand already.”

 

“I suppose you’re right,” the redhead comments simply before following Mayuzumi’s instructions.

 

Mayuzumi just sighs again, ignoring how his heart suddenly started to beat fast again after Akashi’s reply or how he just now realized how good of a singer the other was.

 

(Akashi just finds amusement in it all, despite his own heart racing too and his excitement for the rest of the day ramping up.)

 

 

 

 

 

“Stop staring at my ass, Akashi,” Mayuzumi orders for the third time that practice period.

 

“I’m not staring, Chihiro. You’re standing in front of a mirror that I’m using to practice my routines.”

 

“I can feel your gaze, and your eyes have been on me the entire time.”

 

“Can’t I say the same for you? But then again, I can’t blame you considering the outfits I’m made to wear for ease of practice.”

 

“Just quit staring, you bastard.”

 

“You first, my dear producer.”

 

(Akashi doesn’t, for obvious reasons, but he notes how Mayuzumi doesn’t stop either. What a hypocrite.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mayuzumi furrows his brows at the problem in front of him, hands fiddling with a handful of cables leading to equipment that he’d definitely not be able to pay off if he fucked up that bad.

 

“This has to be a fucking joke,” he mutters under his breath, watching how none of the equipment work still. He’s tempted to call over one of the more experienced techies, but he’s also spitefully independent enough to keep trying until something  _ actually _ breaks. 

He unplugs all of the cables again, starting over for probably the fourth time already. He grabs the first two that he’s definitely sure of, returning it to their previous positions before moving on; if Mayuzumi’s being honest, he’s sweating slightly from his task – he has to solve it soon, otherwise his idol can't practice, like for an actual performance, and he basically gets deemed useless.

 

“And I’m not getting labeled as useless,” Mayuzumi growls in renewed energy. His hand reaches for another cable to solve only for his hand to bump into  _ something _ . Having been a little too absorbed, Mayuzumi retracts his hand as much as he can and jolts backwards.

 

Wrong way.

 

He groans when he stumbles back into the equipment out of being surprised, feeling the protruding buttons and thingymajigs basically jabbing into his body. He wants to yell at the other, but all that escapes is a wheeze before his eyes process the outfit of the boy in front of him.

 

Well, actually, he doesn’t process the outfit. He just processes the unbuttoned shirt, eyes unfortunately glued at how genuinely nice Akashi’s torso was. But he forces his eyes away to meet Akashi’s glinting ones, and Mayuzumi narrows his eyes, all previous attraction – wait – gone. “I take back my words. That outfit is the real joke here, right?”

 

Akashi shakes his head. “I’m afraid not. Usually there’s no changing of uniforms, but I’m a solo idol rather than in a team, so I do have to have a costume change yearly.”

 

“And they chose...that?”

 

“Only to show off more of my body, otherwise my previous years of basketball training will go unappreciated.”

 

Mayuzumi bites his tongue; he  _ hates _ just how effective the costume is, especially on him.

 

(Akashi  _ loves _ just how effective the costume is, especially on him.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

“I’m afraid we go our separate ways now, Chihiro.”

 

Mayuzumi lets out a sigh of relief, murmuring a quick thank you to whatever deity existed out there. He’d actually clasp his hands together to prove how thankful he is, but one hand’s too busy holding an ice pack against his back; turns out he hit the equipment harder than he thought, but at least he didn’t break anything.

 

Well, hopefully at least.

 

“I hope you enjoy your producer class. I know I’ll enjoy mine as apparently, we’ll be having a discussion about current partners.”

 

Mayuzumi does  _ not _ like the sound of that or the feeling of foreboding chills crawling up his spine.

 

“We might be getting the opportunity to be reassigned apparently,” Akashi mentions flippantly, as if that statement couldn’t possibly change their entire year at the damned academy.

 

And immediately, Mayuzumi knows:  _ this is a goddamn trap.  _ Ever since the start of their attendance, the head of the entire place always emphasized the importance of the boys’ choice in their group because they’d be staying together for the entirety of their time at the place. The older wants to ask what the entire point of the lie is when it’s obvious, but he’s beaten to it by Akashi’s next words.

 

“But considering our reputation of having a rather turbulent dynamic, you’ll be fine if I started to find dynamics with others, yes?”

 

_ “Excuse me?” _

 

“You’re excused,” Akashi retorts easily, and Mayuzumi glowers at the humor until the other sighs and replies seriously, “Despite how I’ve acted the whole time, I am aware of your opinions about me, so I talked to the head of the academy about possibly remedying this issue for you–”

 

Mayuzumi feels his entire body turn cold at the thought – something he didn’t think could happen during all last year when he hadn’t realized all he had done. Fuck, was he that bad with his emotions that his automagic response to liking Akashi was banning it to his unconscious and being irritated?

 

(Yes.)

 

“–so if you would like, we can rearrange positions and–Ch-Chihiro, what–?!”

 

Mayuzumi is sure he blacks out for a moment, because in the next moment, he finds himself a little too close to Akashi with his lips pressed softly against the other’s. And goddamn his traitor heart, because it’s beating so fast and so loud and is basically screaming out for  _ more _ .

 

And his just-as-traitorous mind decides to agree, his eyes slipping shut and his lips pressing more urgently against Akashi’s; and then he keeps diving for more and more and more, just like how his heart and mind is telling him to.

 

When he finally pulls away to separate them, all the two of them can do is let out a breathy ‘ _ oh’. _

 

“Look here, Akashit, you bring this up again  _ ever _ in the future, and I will not hesitate to drop out of this damn program to fall off the grid forever and then cut all contact with you,” Mayuzumi hisses after minutes of trying to catch his breath again, cheeks flushed an embarrassingly bright red with his hands still tightly gripping onto Akashi’s shirt.

 

“I cannot  _ fucking believe _ that I just had to end up liking the idol–”

 

“–boyfriend–”

 

“–boyfriend that I’ve found a hindrance to me for an entire year. I didn’t even know my lack of interest in real life girls meant I’d be into a real guy, and it was you!”

 

The redhead huffs in breathless annoyance at his new boyfriend’s rant, but dives in for another kiss of that damned, annoying senpai of his he just had to end up liking; the said senpai just falls into it easily, thinking the same thing about the younger brat.

 

(Mayuzumi still hates spring but just a little less; Akashu finds a whole new love for spring.)

  
  
  



End file.
